


terminal velocity

by copperiisulfate



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Ambiguous Relationships, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:54:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22314391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/copperiisulfate/pseuds/copperiisulfate
Summary: Kusanagi knows that Mikoto had found reassurance in knowing that at least it would be temporary, and now, Kusanagi has suddenly stripped that reassurance away from him. Of course, he is allowed to be angry. Kusanagi had spent years being angry too.[In which a strain has the ability to grant wishes and, in this case, switch fates. Canon divergence from the beginning of season 1]
Relationships: Kusanagi Izumo/Suoh Mikoto
Comments: 10
Kudos: 29





	terminal velocity

Another day brings another fight in which HOMRA's members are interlocked with SCEPTER4 forces on the outskirts of the city while their Kings clash in the midst of it.  
  
Fuse reads the alert on his watch.  
  
Strain 9637603-2A still at large. Extent of abilities: Unknown. Threat level: Class A. Proceed with caution.  
  
Kamo is beside him and catches it too, yells out to the squad members in the vicinity to disengage.

x

At some distance from the chaos, Anna grips tighter on to Kusanagi's arm as a boy about her age approaches them. He gives Anna a long look and she takes a cautious step back, at which point, he turns his gaze to Izumo, studies him at length.  
  
"You're..." she starts to say, _like me, aren't you?_ _  
_  
The child says nothing, smiles.  
  
Anna narrows her eyes, "Izumo," she starts. "We should go."  
  
“What are you--" Izumo begins to move towards him, but the the child points at him with his index finger and for a moment, he is frozen in his tracks.  
  
The strain makes a small circle in the air and then points upwards to the sky.

x

  
Suoh Mikoto looks up at the sky and the Red Sword of Damocles vanishes from where it was looming high above just seconds ago.

Mikoto makes a fist, experimental, heart hammering in his chest, and the flames return as ever at his will.

Munakata Reisi stands before him and gives him a curious look.

x

It's the next morning that Mikoto catches sight of something on his right shoulder in the mirror in passing after a shower. 

He repositions himself, twisting his neck around, and it's awkwardly positioned enough that he would never have caught it on his own. It doesn't take long to make out the pattern, unfamiliar on his skin yet far too familiar all the same.

He practically barrels down the stairs half-naked two steps at a time, and then through the bar, body moving before his mind can fully make sense of it. He gets behind the counter, ignoring Kusanagi's cheeky "Good morning--gotta still be morning somewhere in the world," and tugs at the hem of his shirt. 

"So it's not morning but still too early, don't you think?" Kusanagi jibes, voice stradding between playful and terse, swatting at Mikoto's hands all the while.

"Tell me it's not--" Mikoto hisses. "It _can't--"_

Something flashes in Kusanagi's eyes then although he lets himself and his clothing be manhandled. "Mikoto--" he starts, a warning.

"What the _fuck,"_ Mikoto's voice comes out dark, if not darker than he can ever remember, "did you _do?"_

Kusanagi exhales, slow. "Sit down."

x

There’s no easy way around it but he knows that Mikoto deserves an explanation.

Kusanagi tries his best with one and if it has to be done then at least it’s just them in this place, seated on the armchairs at right angles from each other with the kind of stillness that feels incredibly frail. Mikoto, who usually has no problem taking up space, look far too small and folded into himself than he should. His gaze, however, seems to grow increasingly murderous through it all. 

Mikoto says, through his teeth, “Make it go back. We'll find the strain and--"  
  
“Not so sure it works that way. Besides, according to Awashima, it's already been neutralized."

"Bull _shit_ ," he breathes. "Something with that kind of power? I'll storm their HQ again and find the thing."

"Look, it's _done,"_ Kusanagi says, firm. "Let's just get past that."

“You're saying it was a freak accident, that it could've been anyone so why us?”

Kusanagi looks at him. There’s that old refrain played again and again, so many times it’s become background noise: _Please, please, please, let me keep him alive._

“I don’t know much more than you. Awashima said something about how,” he says, cautious, “there may have been some level of manifesting intentions in its abilities, but it's hard to know for sure.” He almost regrets it as soon as it's out of his mouth, knowing what it will do to them.

"So you're saying you wanted this?" The evenness in Mikoto's voice is unnerving.  
  
There are a hundred thousand things Kusanagi wants to say to that. Among them: _Karma really bites, doesn’t it?_ Instead, he grins and it’s grim. "I didn't make it happen but I don't regret it."

"Can't even look at you right now," Mikoto snarls and storms out of the bar.

It's fine, Kusanagi tells himself, unclenching fists he hadn't realized his hands had made.

This is what they do--old shitty habits they still can't carve out. The anger, the lashing out--it's coming from a place of fear, always does, and fear and Kusanagi are old, old friends. People seem to think Mikoto fearless but Kusanagi has always known better than anyone that Mikoto knows fear intimately in his own way; he also keeps it at bay in his own way.

Kusanagi knows that Mikoto had found reassurance in knowing that at least it would be temporary, and now, Kusanagi has suddenly stripped that reassurance away from him. He has turned the tables on them in every which way. Of course, Mikoto is allowed to be angry. Kusanagi had spent years being angry too.

x

They don't speak for three days.

x

"Can we cut it out?" Kusanagi sighs, finally confronting him on their day off. "You're mad. I get it. It would help if you could stop being petulant and help me strategize. I've spent some time learning how to track down this Colourless--"

“Was that what this is about?" Mikoto arches a brow. "Being in charge what you wanted all along? No one ever stopped you." Mikoto knows it isn’t but he’s feeling cruel and all of this stopped making sense long before Totsuka died. After? Well, his life and his sword seemed to be continuously going to shambles. Kusanagi taking the latter seemed to do little for the former except throw him headlong into an ever deeper circle of his own bespoke living hell than he'd thought possible. Kusanagi could and would have to learn to deal with him not being so fucking agreeable with it all.

" _Hey_ , if you’re itching for a fight," Kusanagi says with bite, "you can have one. Could’ve taken you on even before you got awarded overpowered asshole of the century and you know it."  
  
Mikoto moves lightning-quick, grabbing the front of his shirt and shoves him against the doorframe. His gaze is piercing even if the hands gripping Kusanagi's collar are trembling. 

Kusanagi keeps his eyes on Mikoto's hands because of course he does, the sensitive fucker, and since it's going to be inevitable anyway, Mikoto half wants to throttle the life out of him here and now.

"Hey, look at me," Kusanagi says, low. Mikoto does not. "We can't keep fighting--it'll be okay but we _just_ \--."

A moment passes before Mikoto lets him go. He stands up straight, lets out a wretched laugh. "It will all _work out in the end_ , won't it?" 

And now it's Kusanagi's turn to glower. "Don't do that. You don't get to monopolize being hurt about that so don't pull that shit--not with me."

"What?" Mikoto says, turning away from him because even the sight of him right now twists Mikoto's insides with fury. "You think he'd have been _proud_ of you for taking this on?"

"He would have understood," Kusanagi says. "Of all people, _he_ would have. I mistakenly thought that you would too even though I don't expect you to be happy about it. Given the choice, he would probably have taken it on in a heartbeat himself but you already know that."

The worst thing about it is that Mikoto does know and does understand. In the darkest of days, the saving grace of carrying this power on his shoulders and letting it hang above his head was that at least it was his burden and no one else's, not directly, not in the way that it would be his, always and only _his_. 

He couldn't save Totsuka, and now he's going to watch Kusanagi die as well. A King of legend _indeed_.

He needs to get out before he says something even more regrettable and unforgivable.

The sky turns dark when he finds himself heading to the only place he can think of for answers.

x

"Somehow, I had a feeling I'd see you here."

Mikoto's too riled up to even find Munakata's know-it-all nonsense as annoying as he usually does. "For once in my life, your obnoxious face was actually what I came here looking for." 

Kusanagi had been right and the strain in question was caught in unrelated crossfire in the area by another rogue group of strains, Munakata explains to Mikoto outside their frequented bar amidst the haze of shared smoke. 

"It was unfortunate. He seemed to be a child but incredibly powerful nonetheless as you can see. There were some assumptions about what kind of powers he may have had anecdotally but a few accounts in addition to yours seemed to confirm their nature."

The crux of it: "There's no way to reverse it, Suoh. I'm sorry."

"You know a lot about the logistics of the sanctums," Mikoto exhales, restless and irritable. "You'd lecture me repeatedly about all the ways I was fucking everything up. How do I save him, Munakata?" 

Munakata gives him a long look. "There are no guarantees. It's a ticking time bomb and you know it better than anyone. He can buy some time by holding off on using his power."

"I _need,"_ Mikoto repeats, slowly, with barely contained desperation, "to save him."

The look in Munakata's eyes softens in apology and the sight of it makes Mikoto want to put his fist through something--possibly _everything_.

Munakata serves him the kindness of not pouring the salt of the years he'd spent reminding and trying to keep Mikoto in line to prevent a terrible outcome into his gaping wounds now.

If Mikoto had had a way of knowing what could've--would've--

He closes his eyes tight, crushes his cigarette under his heel. 

x

"We're gonna talk about this once and only once," Mikoto says. He'd returned a little while back and avoided eye contact or sharing space with the bartender who now also happened to be his new king until Anna was asleep.

He now leans against the counter watching said king unstack and sort through glasses and dishes for the next business day. Kusanagi semi-singsongs with an unmistakable edge, "Is this the one where you apologize for being a massive hypocrite?"

"Guess you can call it that."

Kusanagi grabs a washcloth, wipes down the rosewood, almost compulsively, next. "Okay," he nods, once, with precision. "Good."

Another beat and then, "We need to cover a lot of ground actually. You know I need to get business in order," he does not look at Mikoto, "for after."

Mikoto swallows. His voice comes out hoarse when he says, "You're not going anywhere."

"That's cute," Kusanagi deadpans, rubbing at a spot on the countertop far too rigorously. "Did Munakata tell you to talk me down from using my powers? You don't think I'm entirely an idiot, do you?"

Mikoto's going to lose his mind. He grabs Kusanagi's wrist and the man finally lets the blasted washcloth go. "Does that mean you'll listen?"

Kusanagi glances at him finally through his fringe which falls crookedly across his face. At least his insufferable glasses aren't in the way tonight, Mikoto thinks, fighting the urge to push his hair back into place and cursing himself for it being the thing at the forefront of his mind amidst an argument.

"I'm not you," Kusanagi says, "but I am still part of HOMRA. You want me to just stand there while guys come at us from all sides?"

"I'll deal with that," Mikoto says, adamant.

"You're not keeping me in some gilded cage under the guise of protecting me. Not after what I put myself through over the years against all of my better instincts." He doesn't say: _for you._ He will never say: _for you._ He'll do it all except throw it in Mikoto's face and sometimes Mikoto just wishes he would. 

_I'm trying to save your life,_ Mikoto thinks, and knows perfectly well how hollow it rings after everything they've been through.

The thought comes unbidden: how he chose his first two clansmen on that fateful day. It was his way of saying that his life mattered enough to share with them, come hell or high water. 

“I thought you never wanted to be King," Kusanagi says finally, softly. "I thought maybe it was your wish that got granted as well somehow.”

“Not like this,” Mikoto exhales. “You know I finally stopped wishing for that? I thought maybe it was going to be _useful_ for a fucking change after all this time.”

Kusanagi gives him a look. “I'll finish it, Mikoto. You know that I will,” and before he can be interrupted, he adds, “don’t you dare tell me it isn’t also my fight."

Mikoto thinks about his conversation with Munakata and then thinks about the last eight years of his life, of all their lives. He doesn’t. 

Kusanagi turns further into his space and moves to rest a hand at the nape of Mikoto's neck. "C'mere," he whispers, drawing him in, close and tight.

In the space between them, there's still the fresh grief of the recent past, but now compounded with that of the near future.

Mikoto's arms come up around his waist and he burrows his face in Kusanagi's shoulder, breathing him in and in and in, trying to even out his own breathing in the process.

They stand like that, wordless, for a long while. 

x

It’s not fair to him, Kusanagi knows. It’s not fair to anyone really but Kusanagi now has had a little longer to work through it. Truth be told, it’s not as harrowing as he had thought. Or, it is, but in wholly different ways than he had imagined. Seeing the gears spin in Mikoto’s head as he works through what all of this means, what it is going to mean for all of them--

That’s the part he’d thought he would have had all figured out, having been there himself not so many days ago.

To say that Mikoto cooperates going forward would be an overstatement but it is also the closest thing to the truth. He's still angry, will always be angry, and has repeatedly told Kusanagi as much even though he also has come to understand that Kusanagi was not directly responsible in the traditional sense of cause-and-effect. Mikoto also knows there is a lot to get done and, when push comes to shove, Kusanagi has always trusted that Mikoto will do what he needs to do for him and for everyone. 

“So we really should talk logistics, I figure,” Kusanagi says, sitting on the steps in front of the temple they would visit every new year with Totsuka.

He had a flash of spirituality strike this morning and Mikoto had volunteered to tag along. Kusanagi had also tried not to read too much into that.

“Went and got most of the property and financials sorted on my end so there shouldn't be much trouble later but need you to come to the bank with me tomorrow."

Mikoto flicks ash at him. “Of course, you're worried about the fucking _paperwork_.”

“Wills don't write themselves, and pretty sure you shouldn’t be talkin like that around here,” Kusanagi laughs. They probably shouldn't be sharing a cigarette here either, come to think of it.

He knows they’re fast running out of time but barrels on with practicality and sarcasm since it’s the only way he knows how, and also precisely _because_ they are running out of time.

“Speaking of logistics," Kusanagi pauses, "I should probably rendez-vous with your good friend the Blue King, shouldn't I? _Come on_ , second in command." He kicks lightly at Mikoto’s ankle. “You’re supposedly a professional here so give me some advice!”  
  
“At this rate, you might as well just ask me to put you out of your misery,” Mikoto deadpans.

“There he is! The boy I know.” Kusanagi grins, a little wicked. “Yes, classic friendly Old Blue Clan style regicide. Try to keep my head as a trophy too. Hope it stays just as pretty.”  
  
“Maybe I'll borrow Munakata's sword,“ Mikoto says. Partly, he’s meeting Kusanagi’s shitty gallows humour half-way. Partly, Kusanagi knows, it's because he’s still not forgiven for his cursed wish that he somehow made come true and he might never be.  
  
Kusanagi knocks their shoulders together. His voice is softer, serious now, when he says. “I should talk to him.”

Mikoto leans into the touch but there’s still a stiffness in it. He swallows and Kusanagi can hear the click of it. _Every moment_ , he thinks. _Every last one_. He finds himself tucking it away. 

“If you want a real contingency plan then maybe, yeah,” Mikoto takes the last drag of their smoke. "If you left it to me," he adds darkly, "there _will_ be a Kusanagi crater and it definitely won’t be as pretty.”

Kusanagi scoots closer. He puts his head on Mikoto's shoulder, looks out at the landing below, the view of the town partly obscured by fog, and says, "You should bring Anna here for the new year."

“Sometimes," Mikoto says abruptly, his voice a gentle rumble, "I think I could take you to the middle of the ocean when you need to go. It'd be far enough away from everyone."

Kusanagi closes his eyes. "I used to think about it too, back in the day," he admits. "So many permutations where I could find a way to be with you at the end if I couldn't keep you around...they were tempting at times," Kusanagi laughs, a little embarrassed, "even though I didn’t exactly want to die."

"I'd be fine," Mikoto breathes, and it would be easy to miss if Kusanagi wasn't so close. 

Kusanagi swallows past the prickle in his throat. "It was always the thought of Anna that cleared my head. She couldn't lose all three of us, not like that, not when it could have been helped. So I would really like you to," he pushes through the fracture in his voice, "bring her here next year."

Mikoto says nothing, but then, he doesn't need to. 

x

The Colourless King dies and, try as Mikoto might to lead this fight, it has to be Kusanagi who lands the finishing blow.

Munakata is waiting in the wings, at the bottom of the hill and, by the looks of the Red Sword above, it would be a stretch to say that they have an hour left.  
  
"He's in the clearing by the forest," Mikoto says.  
  
Kusanagi looks at him, nods, "I know."  
  
Mikoto says, "It's well enough removed from everything." They both know that Mikoto had spent much time thinking all of this through for himself. Kusanagi would like to spare him from thinking of it again just yet. He knows that these images will return relentlessly, after.  
  
"I don’t plan to fight him, Mikoto. There won’t be collateral damage. Quick and clean."  
  
"I'm coming with you."  
  
" _No_ ," Kusanagi says, sharp, "you are not."

It is the only King’s order he will ever give.

Mikoto’s eyes flash in a quiet rage before him but he says nothing.  
  
They’re wasting time, he knows. Munakata is waiting for him. Kusanagi had all this time thought himself ready but suddenly, strikingly, he does not want to leave, does not want to die.  
  
"Tell Anna that I love her," he says after a still, silent moment where they do nothing but look at one another. It feels like forever and also not nearly long enough. "And _I know_ you know that I love you but I just need to make sure I say it and that you hear it."  
  
Even here, even now, he almost expects a protest of some sort at that; it does not come.

"I always hear it," Mikoto affirms. "Do you?"  
  
Kusanagi laughs and there's a burst of warmth in his chest. "Yeah," he says, voice rough, but he can’t keep the smile off his face. "Yeah, I hear it too. I always hear you."

**Author's Note:**

> figures that i thought of this at 2 a.m. on a weeknight a while back and went 'wow this may arguably be the most upsetting thing you've thought of' followed by 'now you obviously have to write it immediately' and then messed around with it for over a year on and off. at least it counts as checking off another 'redkingifying more homra executives' box or something. anyway, this ran the risk of being discarded entirely so uh forcing myself to post in order to not...do that.
> 
> tl;dr: sup it's 2k20 and i'd still die for em.


End file.
